“What do you have there?” Kimberly says to Michael, who was looking down at one of his books from the trip.
“My book on Rome that you bought me.”
“How does it feel to have finally seen the Roman Coliseum?” wrapping her arm around him. As he scanned through the book looking at the many vivid pictures of ancient Roman sites, he stopped at a picture of the Coliseum.
“The Coliseum was amazing!”
“I can’t believe that the Romans made people fight. I can’t wait to tell the boys at school about this; they’re going to be so jealous.”
“Yeah I know, just make sure you don’t go starting your little gladiator matches in school.”
“It was the best two weeks ever. Do you think Pop will pay for me to go there again next summer?” Michael asked his mother.
“Well Michael that’s something that you have to ask your father about,” said Kimberly smiling down on her son. “Look, Michael, there's Miami. We should be home in no time.” The boy plastered his face to the window to try and see the city before it disappeared as the plane turned.
PING. A chime rang from the overhead panel as the seat belt light turned on.
“This is your captain speaking. We are on our final approach to Miami International Airport. The weather in Miami is a sunny 88 degrees, and we should be at the terminal on schedule. Thank you, and we hope that you had an enjoyable and comfortable flight on board AmeriSky Flight 709.” The stewardess then began her ritual speech instructing passengers to bring seatbacks and trays to their full upright and locked position and to remain in their seats with their seat belt fastened until the plane has reached the terminal and the Captain has turned the seat belt light off.
“Seatbelt locked?”
Michael wiggled the lock. “Yup.”
In the cockpit, the captain heard the tower begin its usual landing dialogue.
“Rabbit 709 Heavy this is Miami Control. Come right to heading 270, descend 300, maintain 215 knots.”
Air traffic controllers no longer use airline names to identify aircraft; for clarity they use unique nicknames for each carrier. AmeriSky's nickname was "Rabbit". "Why couldn't it be something impressive, like 'Eagle' or 'Falcon'?" the captain sighed to his copilot. The copilot responded, "At least it isn't 'Buzzard' or 'Cockroach.'"
“Miami Control this is Rabbit 709 Heavy. Roger. Turning to heading 270, descending 300, maintaining 215 knots. ”
The jumbo jet turned towards the airport began to descend to 300 feet in its approach for landing.
"Rabbit 709 Heavy this is Miami Control. You are cleared to Runway 27L. Traffic ahead already on the ground, cleared to the taxiway. You are number one to land."
“Miami Control this is Rabbit 709 Heavy. Roger.” As Flight 709 made its final turns to land on the designated runway, the pilots looked out over the nose of the aircraft at the airport before them. Ahead of them lay the parallel runways 26L and 26R, one aircraft was taking off from 26R, and another was just pulling off 26L onto a taxiway. Runway 6 was not in use today, and dozens of aircraft moved along the taxiways to and from the gates. Even though the Fourth of July traffic had not yet started, planes were everywhere except runway 27 which was now empty and cleared just for them. They moved their hands across the control panels as they flipped a variety of switches and set controls with the smoothness of a musician playing some strange instrument. They were still a few miles short of the runway when a plume of gray smoke sped across their field of view from behind and slammed into the control tower, the concussion from the impact shattered windows for hundreds of feet along the terminal. It took the pilot and copilot a few seconds to process what they had just seen.
The captain radioed, "Miami Tower this is Rabbit 709 Heavy on final! Do you read?"
After a few seconds of static instead of a reply, the copilot asked, "Should we land?"
The pilot slammed the throttles forward to full power and replied, "That looked like a missile, and there might be others. If they've got incoming, the last place I want to be is on the ground in the middle of it! Get on the horn to TRACON, tell them Miami is inoperable and we are diverting to Orlando!"
۞۞۞۞
The nose of the plane rapidly lifted as it regained altitude, its engines roaring, and everything feeling just like a normal take-off. Passengers and crew were looking at them wondering why they were taking off and not landing.
The intercom clicked on. “Ladies and gentlemen this is the captain. Due to some unusual activity on the ground at Miami International, we are diverting to Orlando. I will let you know when we have more information.”
The plane began turning to proceed to Orlando but, instead of a quick 90-degree turn to the right, the pilot decided to make a 270-degree turn to the left to head north. With the Miami tower out of commission, everyone was on visual flight rules, and he wanted a complete scan of the area for other traffic. The aircraft swept rapidly through its turn, banking sharply, and the resulting g-forces made it clear to everyone on board that this was no longer an ordinary flight. As the plane traversed its three-quarter circle, passengers on the right side and then the left had a full view of the column of fire and smoke that marked the destruction on the ground.
Michael was looking out the window when he saw another gray plume moving rapidly towards them. He grabbed his mother's hand and said, “Mommy what is that?”
Kimberly leaned in front of her son to see out the window. As soon as she found the trail in the sky, she realized it was on a collision course with the plane. Her lower lip trembled, and she clutched Michael in her arms, pulling him closer to her chest. Michael felt drops on his head. “I love you, Michael,” she said, crying. He hugged back and said, “I love you, Mommy." Kimberly closed her eyes and began counting, waiting for the impact to happen. 1…..2…..3.....
Just before the impact, the missile changed its trajectory slightly to avoid colliding with the large object moving in its path, but as the missile passed over the fuselage, it glanced off the tail. The missile wobbled and changed direction erratically before slamming into the main concourse of the airport and detonating. Within seconds, the terminal collapsed in on itself, burying hundreds.
Inside the airplane, the impact was no worse than a slight bit of air turbulence, but the thump of the collision further unnerved the passengers, who were already on edge. The cabin crew worked quickly and restored calm, for the most part. Feeling panic and fear brewing up inside her, Kimberly was determined to keep it together, for Michael's sake. Time seem to slow down as Kimberly looked around the cabin. She saw that most of the passengers were holding on trying to remain calm. In front of her, flight attendants were desperately trying to calm down an elderly woman who was very agitated and insisting that she be unbuckled. .
Behind her there was a man sitting, holding a picture to his chest with both hands, tears streaming from his eyes. Kimberly wondered what the picture showed. Her final glance fell on Michael, who was sitting quietly in his seat pretending to look calm. She could see the fear in his eyes and could only offer him a smile in an attempt to assure him that things would be all right.
When the plane had flown smoothly for a few moments with no further pitching around, passengers began to calm down and most began looking out the windows again, trying to understand what was going on. On the right side of the aircraft, some noticed the two gray plumes that were streaking into downtown Miami. One of them smashed into the side of a skyscraper, the impact blasting debris out of the opposite side of the building. The sudden movement drew every eye on that side of the plane to the building just as the second missile struck a few seconds or maybe a few minutes later - as people recalled the sight they weren't sure how long - the entire building collapsed. Gasps and screams filled the airplane as the building disintegrated into large chunks as it fell, sending a cloud of gray dust swirling into the air and racing across the ground. The passengers witnessed what was the glory of Miami evaporate before their very eyes, as the warheads crashed
into the once beautiful city.
Kimberly heard people in the back of the plane pointing out how the building had fallen into other buildings, starting a domino effect of destruction.
Then, just as events in downtown Miami seemed to be ending, passengers on the right side of the plane saw a massive explosion on the horizon, creating a mushroom plume that rose 300 meters in the sky. Passengers whispered in a disbelieving tone, “Oh God! That’s the nuclear power plant in Homestead!”
۞۞۞۞
Steve Lawson looked at the clock on his dashboard. “Aargh! Quarter to four? Of all the days to get snagged in traffic!” he grumbled. He was desperately trying to make it home, but he was thoroughly ensnared in the congestion that follows an accident, and he wasn’t making any progress. He looked around the streets and saw a hot dog stand among the many street shops. He could do without the souvenirs, but a hot dog or two could do him some justice. He had gone the entire day without lunch, and his stomach was making noises that he interpreted as a threat to eat him if he didn't feed it something.To his left, he noticed a beautiful young lady rollerblading, with her Dalmatian keeping stride beside her. Twenty-four…..twenty-six, he guesses. Her pink mini-skirt revealed long, flawless, tanned legs. He smiled and, making eye contact she, returned her with a smile and a wave. Only in Miami, he thinks to himself while removing his cell phone from the charger to call home.
“Babe, I'm running a little late…..apparently there was an accident over here on Brickell Avenue by Spindall Tower…..no, it's not bad, just enough to slow traffic to a crawl…… yeah, it's bumper to ....” A thunderous crash stopped him in mid-sentence. Steve glanced around for another accident - a big one - but saw instead that people were looking up and screaming. He got out of his car, his wife on the phone asking what is happening.
Steve looked up and saw that a twenty-ton construction crane was falling to the street.
One of the missiles had buried itself in the Spindall Hotel and Tower, and as it did, it damaged one of the support legs of the crane. With the support structure compromised, the damaged leg slowly buckled: the twisting metal sounded like fingernails scraping on a chalkboard. As the crane tipped out over the street, the massive bolts that held the crane to the rooftop snapped and gravity took over, uprooting the crane from its foundation and pulling it off the side of the skyscraper.
As it fell, the crane’s gigantic hook swung wildly in the air, battering the building and gouging out large sections of reinforced glass and steel supports. Chunks of concrete ranged from the length of a sedan to that of a mere penny. People ran in all direction trying to avoid the storm of steel, concrete and broken pieces of glass that were raining down from the building above. All anyone could see or hear were the screams of hundreds of people running for their lives as they took whatever cover they could find from the deadly debris.
Fear and astonishment froze Steven to the spot while he tried to comprehend what was happening. With tons of twisted metal falling towards him, only the voice of his wife calling out to him over his cell phone brought him out his frozen purgatory.
He turned and sprinted away as if his life depended on it, and it did. Seconds after making his mad dash the monstrous machinery had smashed into the earth causing everything in the vicinity to shake like a miniature earthquake.
Covered in dust, Steven had escaped certain death. Clutching onto his cell phone as if it possessed magical powers, he turned to see that tons of twisted metal had transformed his $120,000 vehicle into useless junk. Hearing a low voice calling out, he slowly raised his phone to his ear to tell his wife what was happening. Every muscle in his body seemed to twitch with nervousness. He didn't know where to start explaining what just occurred, the fallen crane or nearly being killed. The words dangled on his tongue but were never spoken. Another wave of concrete and glass crashed onto the street, this time from the neighboring building. Pieces of rebar fell like javelins, impaling themselves into the sidewalk and piercing Steve Lawson’s body. He fell lifelessly to the ground. The phone fell from his hand, crashing amongst the broken glass. His unspoken words to his wife became a faint whisper in the wind, lost forever.
۞۞۞۞
Inside Spindall Tower, a forceful jolt knocked Jason Moorehouse out of his pre-meeting catnap. He crawled to his feet and looked at the time which read 3:45 pm. Disoriented, he rubbed his head while the building's emergency alarm system rang loudly around him. Feeling woozy from bumping his head Jason stumbled to the door of his room. As he prepared to open it, he began to feel pressure in his ears as his hearing became muffled, like as though he was under 30 feet of water. He tried to shake off what felt like vertigo, but to no avail.
It must be from hitting my head he thought.
Jason found the hall empty of people but full of dust and debris. Pulling the collar from his t-shirt over his nose to avoid inhaling the small particles, he paused in disbelief at the huge hole in the side of the building. Sitting in the middle of the floor was a large cylindrical silver object.
“I must have hit my head harder than I thought,” he said to himself. “I have to be seeing things.” His began to doubt his grip on reality, but closer observation revealed that what he was seeing was very much real.
“Holy Shit! A missile!!” he said in amazement.
As he turned to run, everyone's childhood nightmare became real: he felt as though his legs were turning into lead beneath him. His strength drained from him and was replaced by the sensation of being violently shaken. In seconds, his clothing was saturated with perspiration.
Each step brought excruciating pain, more than any man should have to endure. Making it to the emergency stairwell seemed hopeless. Unable to support his weight he leaned against a nearby wall, sliding along it to make his escape. Eventually, the pain became unbearable and, falling to his knees screaming; he covered his ears. With blood starting to exit every orifice of his body, he gathered what remaining strength he had, to ignore the pain end envision his girlfriend wearing the ring he just purchased. It was to be the last thought he would know.
Seconds after Moorehouse collapsed, the missile that had slammed into the middle of the building had finally discharged. Its emissions sent a forceful concussion blast throughout the entire floor, sending glass, concrete, metal, and office supplies hurling debris out from all sides of the building in a plume of dust. Within minutes the middle portion of the tower collapsed, bringing the weight of the upper tower down on its self. The sheer force of the massive falling debris of steel and concrete shook the earth as it came into contact with its foundation. Crumbling like a heaping stack of jagged twisted Jenga blocks, the weight of the crashing building blew up gigantic dust clouds into the air, blotting out the sun in the process and creating a spiraling sandstorm that covered downtown. Seconds later the lights in the district began to flicker then completely go out.
Only blocks away from the collapsed Spindall Tower the second projectile struck the districts secondary energy source at the Sunshine Power Hub located on Biscayne Boulevard. Impacting the ground at nearly supersonic speeds the missile penetrated deep into the earth beneath the substation. The warhead detonated and sent a wave out from the impacts epicenter. In seconds, with a weakened foundation, the center of the station collapsed to form a crater as if the earth had opened its mouth and swallowed all that was above, taking with it towers and transformers. Without regulators to maintain its power systems an unmanageable power surge was sent cascading throughout what remained of the downtown district’s power grid, causing sporadic electrical fires and multiple outages as hardware failed under the surge.
۞۞۞۞
At 3:47 pm the Turkey Point nuclear power plant in Homestead, just south of Miami, became the last target. A blinding flash of sparks and flames erupted from the center of the building as the plant’s powerful generators exploded from the missiles' impact. There was no warning for the technicians and maintenance crews working on the huge turbines when they were engulfed in flames and supe
rheated steam, perishing instantly. Fires ignited throughout the plant as thousands of feet of electrical cables overheated.
The planners of the attack realized they would not be able to breach the containment domes and reach the reactors, so they targeted the generators, knowing that the power surges that resulted as they failed would overload cables and substations and take the Miami grid down for days. Choosing to remain behind in the Central Control room Sara and Amanda were doing all they could to regain control and take the plant gracefully out of the power grid.
“Warning! Warning! Pressure loss all turbines. Output loss all turbines.” flashed red on Amanda’s computer monitor.
“Amanda," shouted Sara. "We've gotta get out of here….it's too late for the plant!” Fiercely typing away on her keyboard Amanda tried to shut down some of the facility's system to prevent an overload of the three power grids for Miami that the plant controls: the Northern Grid, the Southern Grid, and the Eastern Grid.
"SCRAM Protocol Complete. Reactor Shutdown Complete." flashed on the screen.
“OK, the reactors are safe! If I can simply cancel the power to the Southern and Eastern grids then the Northern grid could be salvaged, and that would let us reroute some power from it back into the Southern and Eastern grids. This would keep downtown functioning.”
“Amanda we don’t have time for that,” shouts Sara looking over Amanda’s shoulder at the monitor.
“Southern Grid's almost down and that will prevent overload! Just a few..... seconds ...more,” stated Amanda through gritted teeth.
“You're talking like that’s time we have to spare,” Sara replied, hearing explosions in the distance.
The initial impact of the missile had done major damage to the facility, but it was still possible to have an orderly shutdown and minimize the disruption to the power grid. However, when the missiles activated any opportunity to control the situation vanished. Power spikes flew throughout the plant cascading out into the power grid like ripples on the water. Vibrations and power surges caused the monitors in front of the girls to explode, knocking both Amanda and Sara from their chairs onto the floor.
Rise of the Phoenix Page 2
